Raise your voice. Rebel. Make a change. Love. Have lots of good sex.

The Gay World

Each month…or every 3 weeks…there’s a new PC party with a new theme. Now I could give less shits about the theme (some recent ones were: Wonderland, Paparazzi and Celebrities, Phantoms of Comics, Pacific Cay), but what’s cool is that each time there’s a new location! From the Estral Theater (Hamra) and the Roger Mourkarzel Studio (Karantina) to the open-air Solea V in Sin El Fil, these locations keep things fresh!

The music is awesome. Mostly pop and commercial dance music. Unlike CUNXTSAT‘s monotonous house music that makes you wanna shoot yourself after the first 15 minutes, the music at PC Party allows you to get in the mood when you’re paying for your ticket. Yep, it’s kind of expensive if you think about it (50,000 Liras or $33) but for a party that’s well-organized, fun, wild, and with an open-bar, it’s worth paying that much every month.

The last PC-s have been epic for me and my friends. I’ve been taking my straight best friend with me and she’s getting lucky more than I am, even though I’m the one getting half-naked 30 minutes into the party! So that tells you something about the crowd: it’s not totally gay and it’s not totally straight. Straight girls can get lucky, and 17 year old hormonal straight guys can get the over-the-jeans action they dream of. And gay guys…oh those gay guys…can kiss three…four…five?…guys in one night. Blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the music. Blame it on the sweat. It’s a sexy free-for-all.

People take their dressing up so seriously at PC…which I LOVE. It’s something that’s missing from the rest of the parties and clubs in Lebanon. It’s not about showing off the latest Aishti shirt you bought, the latest iPhone, or the latest nose job. It’s about putting on a show. Dressing up for the occasion. Having an outlet to express yourself. It’s not about showing off (when you wanna show off, you go to Bardo). PC is about showing your true colors and losing yourself in the music. A good party is about not remembering what you did the next day and have your friends remind you who you kissed. It’s about looking at your clothes and shoes the next day and think “How the FUCK did I get so dirty?”. In that sense, PC is a great party

Like this:

Below is a guest piece written by Zeus DreamCaster. Thanks for sharing your thoughts man. =)

What do you think about what Zeus is saying? Have you ever lied to yourself and tried to justify your homosexuality or sexual identity?

This time I have an opinion about as issue that I am sure very few had talked about it before. But I found out the best way to say it is through a short story.

Once, I had a gay friend of mine who was telling me how much he cried in the church during the mass. According to him, the way he felt when he was inside made him realize that he should change his life (Pathetic Lie # 1), stop having gay relationships (Pathetic Lie #2), deactivate his Manjam and Grindr (Pathetic Lie # 3), and last but not least, silence his gay instinct (Pathetic Lie # 4). As a close friend, I supported him, approved the decisions he had made, and helped him reach his target.

For my surprise, and only few weeks after this happened, he was telling me about how desperate he is to have sex with a guy (Truth # 1), and that he is seriously thinking about having a sex partner (Truth # 2). Again, as a close friend, I told him to think about it very well before taking any serious decision that he might regret later on.

When I think about this story now, I do not feel but sadness and pity for that friend.

Some people wonder why Lebanese gays are “mafsoumin”, but they do not know how much pathetic they are. The pathetic lies they tell to themselves after listening to lectures done by their priest, or cheikh, or teacher. Besides, the way they try to analyze their personalities and project their decisions is much more pathetic.

What they need and what we all need is to come to terms with our true selves. Just look in the mirror and tell the person you see that you accept him as he is. No one is a saint, and no one is a devil. How do you want people to stop judging you, if you judge yourself first? God will never judge you! According to all religions, God has chosen human beings, among all other species, to be blessed with his love and care. Thus, why do you want to complicate your life? You are the ultimate creation of this world, act like it!

You want to have sex? Just do it. You don’t like Lebanese gays? Stop dating them. People just be true to yourselves before wasting people’s time with your pathetic lies and facts. Stop hiding behind your fingers thinking that you can deceive the sun.

Humans, by nature, have physical needs. So satisfy them, and act normal about it. Don’t dramatize and make a huge fuss out of it. Discover the source of your needs, so that you can overcome them.

Years ago, I had sexual relationships with several guys, and I used to come back home, cry and shower for hours thinking this will cleanse my sins. However, with time I realized that my sins are present only in my mind. I was afraid to see my truth. I was afraid to discover that I was weak and afraid. That I need anything, which was sex at that time, to bring me closer to a man. Interestingly, when I came to terms with myself, I understood my fears and overcame them. I did not have sex for like four years after this.

To cut a long story short, I want to conclude with a quote for Budda. He said, “Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.”

Search for your inner peace by yourself. Believe me, no one cares whether you find it or not. Do it and save yourself from the rotten apocalypse awaiting us.

Sunday afternoon. In bed. Tryin to sleep. It’s become a ritual. I think about u. About us. Dreamin about running into you at a club. You’ll be sitting there bored with him. And I’ll be dancing. The life of the party. Dancing around you. Showing you I’m OK. I’m alive. I’m alright. That’s how I usually fall asleep. Not today. Today I have to write this down. I want you. I want us. Back. I’m fuckin demented and I know it. We’re bad for each other. A ticking time bomb. A nuclear explosion waiting to happen. I miss u. I’ve missed u for years. I miss u introducing me to your friend. “This is my BF”. Fuck yeah, I’m into labels. Fuck yeah, I’m traditional. I haven’t cried in years. Years. I’m fuckin tough. On the exterior. Ex. Terior. Funny. But as I sit in bed now with nothing but my thoughts and Frank Ocean’s Thinkin Bout You playin, I find my eyes tearin up. You’re the only one. The only thing. That makes me cry. You’re so bad for me and I know it. You’re bad. And I love that. I don’t want your roses and kisses. I want you to slap me. To hit me in the stomach. To bang my head into the wall. Push me down the stairs. And then apologize for it. And tell me how much you love me. Kiss the bruise on my face. Taste my tears. And tell me how much you love me. Then fuck me. Right there on the stairs. While I cry. While you cry. Right there on the stairs. Stained with blood, tears and cum. That’s what I want. That’s what puts me to sleep at night. Dump him. I donno who he is. I don’t wanna know. Dump him. You know no one has ever hated you the way I do. And you know that’s love. Why do you keep talkin to me. You say you wanna be friends. You say you just wanna talk. Friends. But I know you know I can’t handle it. I know you see it in my eyes. In my words. Dump him. He can’t handle u. I can’t either. But I’ll die trying. Your name. Four letters. 2 vowels. 2 consonants. My weakness. My obsession. You’re not worth it. I know. But when I see “Four letters 2 vowels 2 consonants” sent you a message on Facebook or “Four letters 2 vowels 2 consonants” is talking on Whatsapp… my heart starts beating. I feel something. Somethin I didn’t feel that day. I feel alive. You’re no good. And I’m no good. But I’ve had good. I’ve had the nice boyfriend. The sweet boyfriend. Who sang me Happy Birthday in bed. I wish you can do the same. Be the same. Have some compassion. Show me some love. I guess people never change. I sure haven’t changed. I’m still an asshole. Judgmental. Don’t give you the chance to speak. To justify yourself. I’m sensitive. Emotional. And I scream when I’m mad. I push you away. I’m an asshole. And an asshole like me needs an asshole like you. Dump him. Leave him. And call me up. Say “I realized I want to give us a shot”. Say “I realized I love you”. Say “You’re the one. It’s you. It’s always been you”. Say that. I’m a catch. I’m a fuckin catch. With a beautiful pink asshole. Have you seen my Facebook pics? I’m adorable. I’m hot. I’m cute. The pics I upload just for you. To get your attention. And they do. I know they do. You’re a coward. You donno what you want. And I hate that about you. So why can’t I stop thinkin about u? Maybe I want what I can’t have. Maybe I’m a masochist. Not maybe. For sure. Come on. Let’s go back together. Let us slow dance. Forget all the things that tore us apart. That keep tearing us apart. Let’s pretend that I’m not immature. Let’s pretend that you don’t believe in heaven and hell. Let’s drive at 200 km/hr on the coast. The wind blowin my hat away. Your hand massaging my neck. Let’s kiss in the cemetery. Our first kiss. A sign of bad things to come. Let’s pretend. And take it from there. Reality’s not for us. In reality, we won’t work out. Let’s pretend we’re made for each other. Fake it till we make it. Pretend you love me. I know you’ll remember how to if you just gave it a shot. If you just pretended. If you tasted it one more time. Ate it. No one swallowed it like you did. Fed on it. Put it on his lips and worshipped it. Then lied next to me and said: “You’re an angel”. But angels can be bad too. Devils like you do it good. Fallen angels like me do it better. We’ve seen both sides. The purity of heaven. The wrath of hell. You’ve only seen one, so let me tell you. Heaven’s overrated. I want you to live in hell. With me. The blood. The sweat. The tears. The bruises. The cum. The scars. The scars of life. Of love. Open your mouth. Take a breath as if it’s your last. And swallow.

To save their ass. They’re too afraid to come out. They don’t want to own up to stealing. They’re too embarrassed they cheated. They don’t want the other person to know that that stinkin fart was theirs.

Or because they think lying will get them one step closer to what they want.

I was lookin forward to this “date” with this cute guy. We were supposed to meet in Starbucks so after work, I drove straight there. Sat inside. Went to the bathroom to see how I looked. Looked in the mirror. Jacket on? Jacket off? Practiced some smiles. Fixed the hair.

It’s not bad enough that he was late. I get a call: “Let’s go to my apartment instead”.

“I already said no. If we go to the apartment, we’re just gonna bone. And I want a date with you”.

“No, no. We’ll have dinner and we’ll just talk”.

So he picks me up. We enter the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor and exactly half a millisecond later, his tongue was down my throat.

(Security cameras are gonna have a blast with this one.)

Well this looks promising.

We enter his house. Showed me around his trendy living room for 2 minutes. We sit on the couch. And another set of tongue shoving happens. Not the romantic kind. It’s the “let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel” kind. I reciprocate for a minute. I mean he is hot. I can hear the innocent 20 year-old in me saying “DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK! THIS IS NOOTTTT A DATE”.

So I stop him for a second. “Dude, I thought this was a date. We were gonna talk…”.

“We’re talking. We’re talking”, he says while he grabs my head and touches his dick.

I can’t do talking when a dick is in my mouth. And this one might be huge. So no. I get off the couch and say: “Yo. You don’t wanna talk. You wanna fuck. Do you wanna fuck?”.

He walks to the bedroom door as a sign of “Yes”, waves his hands towards me and says: “Come on. Get in”.

I think for a minute.

I mean, I do wanna have sex. But the whole thought of a fuckin sleazy liar…pissed me off.

So I say: “Yo…if you were honest about you wanting to have sex, we would be fucking right now. So goodbye”.

I walk under the rain (I had an umbrella. Cut the dramatics) and take a cab to my car.

I make an attempt to hook up with someone else. Someone who’s honest about wanting sex. Well, that attempt was futile. I just headed home with water in my hair and a boner in my pants.

I hate liars.

Be a man. Be honest about what you want and don’t want. Maybe that’ll get you one step closer to getting you’re dick sucked.

Nabil and Joe are boyfriends. Living together. Nabil’s 37. He’s a hot bear. Has a 12 pack. And has a thing for young bears. Joe, not the best looking guy, is perfectly okay with that. In fact, it’s perfectly okay for Nabil to fuck a guy while Joe’s in the other room. If Nabil brings a guy to the house while Joe’s there, Nabil introduces the guy to Joe. “Hey Habibi…this is Bilal. Bilal, this is my boyfriend, Joe.” “Oh hey, Bilal! Nice to meet you. Yeah, yeah I’m actually an architect. And you?” Nabil fucks this guy hard while Joe’s working in the room next to them.

Ziad and Mohammad are boyfriends. Living together. Ziad’s 29. Sexy. Mohammad’s 28. Handsome. One night in February, Bilal knocks on their door. Ziad opens the door. “Heyyy! Kifak? Come in! Baaaabe…look who’s here!”. They were expecting him. A few shots later, the three of them are fucking.

These stories are true. Well, more or less. The names are different and I’m not sure about the ages or Joe’s “abs for days”.

Is this what a relationship is these days? Your boyfriend fucking someone else in the other room while you listen? Is that love? Or is it friendship?

“No stupid, it’s an Open Relationship”. Capital O and R. You know like when you capitalize G in god so you don’t piss people off. The term confuses me. If it’s a relationship, isn’t it supposed to be closed with a sign that says “Listen, this guy’s taken and he can only suck my cock”?

That said, you never know. Even though I can’t really understand it now, I might be in one of those relationships when I’m 37. Obviously I’m not in those people’s shoes so I don’t understand how they can do it. Or why. But I mean, I’d like to know. Really.